


Talk to Her

by raggedyfangirl666



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Melissa McCall - Freeform, Missing Scene, Post Eichen House, Tumblr Prompt, post 5A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggedyfangirl666/pseuds/raggedyfangirl666
Summary: Tumblr prompt: The plan worked to get Lydia out but she doesn’t want to talk about what happened in Eichen but finally tells Stiles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has a slightly graphic description of Lydia's wound, so beware... otherwise, enjoy! I decided to post this here because in Tumblr got enough likes and reblogs for me to feel good about it so... please comment ♥

The night after getting Lydia out of Eichen House, Stiles was supposed to fall asleep the instant his head touched the pillow. However, when the boy got home after finally separating himself from the banshee’s side, he couldn’t bring himself to keep his eyes closed. The pain, nerves and exhaustion of the rescue were all weighting down on his lids, but his mind was racing way too fast for him to be truly able to rest. He reflected on what he had done wrong and what could have gone better and about those several seconds when he begged her to open her eyes… although reflected wasn’t the right word, more like mentally punished himself for that. 

Her words, almost the only ones she had shared with anyone since that almost deadly scream, resonated in his head: Stiles saved me. And the look in her eyes, filled with relief and hope, that look, he knew, would be forever plastered in his mind.

The sleepless night went on and on until a few rays of sunshine illuminated his bed through the window. When his clock struck seven, he grabbed the keys of his jeep and drove to the Martin’s house. He didn’t knock on the door, though, nor did he try to call Lydia on her cell phone. The window of her room was visible from where he sat in the car and he could see that the lights were off. Better if she slept. She needed and deserved all the peace she could get and he wasn’t about to go in and disrupt it just because he couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about her.

With his attention so fixed on Lydia’s window, the knock on the window of the jeep scared the hell out of Stiles. And when he saw that it was Natalie Martin the one who had tapped the glass, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved that it was not some kind of supernatural threat, or anxious about the woman catching him outside her doorstep.

Stiles lowered the glass, ready to hear the: “go home, Stiles” and “I can take care of her” that he had received the night before. That was not what he got though.

“I think it would be better if you talk to her.”

The boy hurried out of his car and into the house, following Ms. Martin footsteps. His mind was already racing, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“At first she didn’t want to go to sleep last night.” The woman continued in almost a whisper, going up the stairs. “Once she did, not because she wanted to but because her body gave up on her, the nightmares started. It is not the first time that she has had bad dreams or, you know, visions, but this is different. This is worse and she won’t even speak about it. I was about to call you when I saw your jeep outside. I don’t know what to do.”

In any other situation, Stiles would have pitied the woman, whose face screamed stress and lack of sleep. Nevertheless, there were more important things to concentrate on other than pity.  


They had reached Lydia’s bedroom door by then.

“Just a second.” Said Natalie before slightly cracking the door open to let herself in. Stiles could hear that she was saying something but didn’t understand what, nor did he hear Lydia reply. A few moments later, the woman was back at the hallway. “You can go in. I will come back in a few minutes to change her bandages.”

Once alone, the teenager ran a hand through his hair and went inside the room. There was barely any light coming through the window, but it was enough for him to notice her sitting against the headboard of her bed, covers over her legs and eyes closed. Despite being hidden by the shadows, Stiles knew exactly where the square of white gauze covering her wound was.

“Hey.” He said, insecure about what to do.

“Hi.” Lydia answered in a voice too small for it to actually belong to her.

She opened her eyes and Stiles was taken aback by how much poorly hidden hurt was reflected on them. There were no tears anywhere in sight, though. Putting aside his doubts, the boy took a few steps forwards and sat next to her in the bed. Their hands immediately met, desperate for an anchor that wouldn’t let the other vanish into thin air.

“You want to talk about it?” His words were barely audible, yet she flinched at the question and shook her head.

Stiles’ arm found its way around her back and Lydia shifted so that she could rest her head over his chest. From that angle, he had a perfect view of the bandages and it was his turn to flinch. He could already see the blood starting to stain them. 

This wasn’t fair. Why did she have to be the one to endure the most pain? 

They just sat there in the darkness without saying anything for a few minutes, arms around each other and hands intertwined. Slowly, all the tension from both their bodies started to slip out.

Natalie Martin knocked on the door, entering with a first aid kit in her hands and turning on the lights. The woman sat next to them and Stiles reluctantly let go of the girl in his arms so that Lydia could face her mother. Their hands remained clenched together.

When Natalie removed the old gauze, Stiles had to look away, partly not to faint and partly to resist the urge to punch a wall. Lydia, feeling his body tense, stroked the skin of his hand with her thumb. Downstairs, a phone started ringing.

“Stiles, can you finish cleaning her wound for me? That might be Melissa calling to check up on things. There are a few questions I want to ask her.” Said Ms. Martin. The boy nodded, not entirely convinced that he was the best man for the task.

The woman handed Stiles the first aid kit and a wet tissue before rushing off to answer the call. Lydia, uncomfortable, shifted in the bed, turning to face him.

“I can wait for my mum if you want.” She said softly, eyeing him with concern.

Stiles shook his head, cracking half a smile to reassure her that it was okay. “At least if I faint I have a nice, soft mattress to catch me.” He tried to convince himself that he was just joking.

Fearful of causing her any further pain, the boy started carefully dabbing her wound with the wet cloth. Lydia tried her best not to grimace, still he could see by the way her lips were tightly pressed together how much it hurt her. He finished, packed her injury with clean bandages and gave her another reassuring smile. This time she returned it with one of her own -small, yet honest.

They went back to hugging, a little more reclined on the bed against the feather pillows. At one point, Stiles thought she was asleep, but was proven wrong when she spoke.

“They drilled a hole into my head.” The boy tightened his embrace and pressed his lips to the top of her hair at hearing the distress in her words. “He drilled a hole into my head and I could feel it. I could hear the bone cracking and the blood…” Lydia stated crying now, needing to tell someone, him especially, because he would understand. Stiles could feel the blood boiling in his veins with anger. If Vallack hadn’t been dead…

“I killed him.” Said Lydia then. “I killed him. I killed Vallack. I killed someone. He kept pushing me and I just…”

Her breathing became shallower and very rapid and her body wouldn’t stop shaking now, clear signs of the start of a panic attack. Stiles reacted instantly, carefully turning her around and cupping her face with his hands. He ignored the way his heart was aching at seeing her in such a situation.

“Hey, it was not your fault. He did that to himself, understood? It wasn’t your fault.” He searched her eyes with his own, but she had pressed them close. With his thumb, Stiles softly traced the path of her tears down her face. “Look at me, Lyds. It was not your fault. Lydia, please open your eyes.” She obeyed him, breathing still swallow yet the tinniest bit calmer. “You cannot blame yourself for this. Okay?” He waited for her to nod before hugging her. “It’s going to be alright, you are not there anymore. You are here and you are going to be fine.”

It was my fault for not doing something sooner, Stiles couldn’t stop thinking; I should have gotten there faster. But he decided to keep his mouth shut. She had enough guilt of her own to also bear his.

Eventually her breathing went back to normal and then slowed down further. Soon she was asleep, for real this time. After Natalie checked up on them, his eyes closed too. His mind still wasn’t completely at peace, but just being able to hold Lydia, knowing that she was alive, was enough to allow him some rest. He knew that they would later have to deal with the psychological scars left from this experience, but he silently promised her that he would be there for her, that he would help her with the nightmares and the guilt for as long as it took. He was an expert with those anyway.

Snuggling closer to Lydia, Stiles fell asleep for the first time in a long while. And although their dreams were still haunted by demons, when either woke up, the other was already there; ready to offer as much comfort as they could.


End file.
